Words
by MischiefManaged007
Summary: "This, is not just a word. This, is the word. This is my every fear encapsulated in one word." Ron and his family help Hermione deal with the word carved on her arm.


****_Based on DH part one movie torture scene with Hermione getting mudblood carved into her arm. Usually I am against the changes they make in the films but I thought it was an amazingly terrible - if you get what I mean - adjustment. I imagine her having issues with getting over the scar and so this, combined with some help from Glee's 'Born This Way' episode, inspired this. _****

****_Enjoy!_****

****_x_****

**_Words_**

"It's pretty hot out there."

"I'm sure the wind will pick up later on."

He raises his eyebrows, "It's summer – no trace of wind or rain in weeks. You'd fair better wearing a t-shirt."

"You never know, we do live in Britain, Ronald, a place not exactly renowned for sunshine."

He changes track. "Well, I got you that new dress a couple of weeks ago – you still haven't worn it. Maybe you could wear that? It brings out your eyes." She rolls the aforementioned eyes. "See," he continues, "I'm not completely oblivious."

"No, not completely," she agrees, her expression softening. "You know I love that dress. I just… I'm saving it for a special occasion. You know, we have that dinner with my department coming up in a few weeks and I thought –"

"Hermione," he cuts her off. "We both know what the real issue is here."

"The weather?"

He drops the charade completely. "That dress has no sleeves."

"Goodness, Ronald, thank you for pointing that out for me," her voice positively dripping with sarcasm, "I'm not sure how I made it this far in life without you illuminating the way for me."

She attempts to stalk past him but he catches her by the wrist and firmly, yet gently, rolls the sleeve of her shirt up past her elbow.

She too, drops the act. "_Don't,"_ she snaps and yanks down the sleeve.

"Hermione," he begins, "no one notices, it doesn't mean anything. It's just a –"

"Don't!" She says again, even angrier than before. "Don't you dare say it's j_ust_ a word."

"Well it is!"

She marches over to where he is sitting on the bed, yanking the sleeve back up and thrusts her uncovered arm directly in his face.

The wound shimmers in front of his eyes, looking as fresh as it did on that horrible night, three years earlier. The letters are carved deep and have shown no sign of healing – neither completely nor even slightly. The phrase still burns angry red, seemingly inhabited by an evil magic that will not calm despite the combined efforts of Fleur, Mrs. Weasley, a team of specialised Healers from St. Mungos and Hermione herself. Spells, creams and even a Muggle product her parents had bought from the pharmacy, had all been tried. None had managed to coax or lessen the strength of the word on her arm.

_Mudblood._

At first, she disregarded the wound. Pushed it to the back of her mind; there were more important issues to address. Ron asked her once at Shell Cottage how she felt about it and she merely shrugged, _"It's just a word." _There was no time to think otherwise and she truly believed it to be just a word for a while. They were busy; planning for Gringotts was followed by breaking into Gringotts, which was followed by the Battle of Hogwarts. Of course, the action ended after that but emotional work was still required: understanding and coming to terms with what had happened, grieving for the victims, especially grieving for _Fred_. Then was her visit to Australia to find her parents, return their memories. That required a different sort of strength and healing. Time flew so quickly that before they knew it, she was back to Hogwarts for her N.E.. Both of them knew she would not focus on anything but her study. And so, the word was pushed from her mind for another year.

But then came a time when there was nothing to occupy her mind or emotions. This delayed recognition doubled her agony; even Ron found it hard to get through to her.

She was better now. She allowed Ron to kiss the wound, whisper words of comfort into her ear. There were times, nights mainly, where should would look at the word and cry. Or she would awake in the night clutching her arm, quivering with fear from the events that her dreams forced her to relive. These moments, now few and far between, were still hard. They got through it together; no one else was a part of her struggle. Harry knew which, in turn, meant Ginny knew, but they didn't talk about it. Her parents and his family were aware of her scar but not so aware of the heartache it still caused. Though they all noted that Hermione always kept her arms covered, always wearing long sleeved shirts or jackets, even in the scorching heat.

She waves her arm in his face again. "This, is not _just _a word. This, is _the _word. This is my every fear encapsulated in one word. It takes me back to that night. It makes me think she's here with me. It reminds me that maybe I'm not truly a part of this world. That despite working so hard, I'm still a mudblood. It represents the prejudice that people will always hold against me. It reminds me of the war. Which reminds me of Fred, Tonks, Remus and all the others. So don't you dare tell me it's _just _a word."

She tugs the sleeve down her arm, covering the scar. Ron gently pulls her forward, so she's standing between his legs, and wraps his arms around her hips, resting his head against her stomach. He can feel the sobs beginning to wrack her body and the patch on her shirt where his face is pressed grows damp from his own tears. Hermione clings onto his neck with her arms and buries her face in his hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, don't be. I needed to say it. But I know that you know. You're the only one who understands. I don't like anyone else seeing it. I don't like anyone else knowing."

They stand together for a few more moments before Ron draws back. "You still going to come today? I can tell everyone you're not feeling well?"

"No, no," she attempts to smile, "I'm fine. I'll just take a couple of moments and head over later. You go on."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am," she smiles down at him, "but… Ron, I won't be wearing the dress."

"I know. It's fine." He looks at her worried face, "Really, it is." He stands up and kisses her quickly before moving to the door. "Just come when you're ready. I'll see you soon?"

She nods and smiles before shooing him out of the door.

x

x

x

Half an hour later, Hermione walks through the gates in front of The Burrow, clutching the wrapped present that Ron had managed to leave behind. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were celebrating their wedding anniversary and had insisted that the whole family should gather to celebrate with them. Hermione didn't mind but Ron had groaned and rolled his eyes – in his mind, Sundays weren't fit for anything but sleeping and eating. Well, Mrs. Weasley's cooking was sure to satisfy one of those needs.

Hermione was trying to push what had happened this morning out of her mind. She knew he was trying to help; she would be doing the same if the situation had been reversed. But it wasn't and she couldn't help but be very sensitive when it came to the subject. To his credit, Ron was brilliant and rarely pushed her too much – usually only raising the issue when she wanted to talk about it. She wished she could embrace her scar like Harry had, but it was hard.

She knocks once on the door before entering the house. She doesn't have to knock as the house is her second home but she felt it was polite to do so.

"Hello?" she calls out. It was unusual to not be greeted by a large number of people the moment you walk into The Burrow. Hermione calls out again before placing the present on the kitchen table. Before she can register what has happened, her vision is obscured by long red hair. A pair of arms grabs her and hugs her tight.

"Hermione! You're finally here!"

"Glad to see you too, Ginny!" She laughs at how excited the younger girl is. "Where is everyone?"

"Just through in the living room. C'mon, everyone's been waiting for you!"

"Did Ron tell you that I was going to be late, because I wouldn't want everyone –" she stops in both speech and movement. "Ginny, what is that on your arm?"

Ginny stops and holds her arm out in front of her. The words 'trophy wife' are written on it in harsh black ink. _  
><em>

"What on earth…" Hermione starts.

"You've seen those articles in the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_? That's what they call me. '_Harry Potter's bimbo of a trophy wife.'_ I know it shouldn't get to me, but it does."

"Ginny -"

"In here," she commands, pulling Hermione into the living room.

The rest of the Weasley's and their respective partners are seated around the room, either in armchairs or on the floor. Everyone looks up as Hermione and Ginny enter the room.

"Sorry I'm late everyone I…" and for one of the few times in her life, words fail Hermione.

As she looks around the room, she takes in everyone's arms which are inscribed with the same black ink as Ginny's. Her mouth opens, aghast, as she takes in the words.

Bill's reads '_werewolf' _while Fleur's '_vain'._

Mrs. Weasley is collecting empty mugs from around the room and smiles gently before turning her arm to show the words _'just a housewife'._

Charlie's words '_alone'_ shine as brightly as the burns that cover his muscled arms.

Mr. Weasley is perched on the armrest of the sofa Charlie is sitting on; he smiles at Hermione before extending his arm, allowing her to see the word '_mad'._

Percy sits hand in hand with his new wife Audrey, the words _'betrayer' _and '_adopted'_ evident on their arms respectively.

George is on the floor, the arm he is scratching his foot with bears the word _'Fred'. _Angelina swats his arm way, telling him not to do that and at the same time, lets Hermione catch a glimpse of the word _'black' _on her own arm.

Harry laughs as George continues to scratch his foot. He crosses his arms in front of him to reveal the word murder.

Hermione gasps, "Harry, you're not a – "

"No, I know I'm not," he cuts her off, "but sometimes it feels like many of those deaths were my fault. Sometimes, I just can't help but feel that way. But then I realize that it wasn't my fault and that what happened… I can't change it and it doesn't define me. Like your word shouldn't define you."

"Well said, mate," says a voice from behind Hermione. A pair of strong arms wraps themselves around her waist. She looks down at the arms and sure enough, there are words on them too, _'second best'. _Hermione turns around to look at the owner of the arms.

Ron meets her gaze fiercely. "Before you start, I know that I'm not second best. It's just an insecurity that I carried with me for a long time. Something that made me doubt myself, stopped me from doing things that I wanted to do and made me do things that I didn't want to do."

"Most of us have doubts, Hermione," says Mr. Weasley, "there are things about us that others find strange, things that we would like to change about ourselves if we could. It's only human."

Bill nods, "We all have scars. Some you can see –"

" – And some you can't," finishes George.

Ginny turns to Hermione, her eyes glistening with tears. "What happened to you was… Horrible. Most wouldn't survive the pain, let alone deal with the constant reminder of it. But you did. You're still here with us and you're still Hermione. And it's hard, but it happened. It's a part of you. It's more than _'just words' _but at the same time, you shouldn't let it be more than just words. Do you know what I mean?"

Hermione nods slowly as she looks around the room, Ron's arms still holding her tight. They were saying all the things she had always told herself but somehow, hearing it from other people, knowing that they hurt in the same way, made it all the difference. They were fighting; they were coping and so would she.

She reaches down and gently unclasps Ron's arms from around her and slowly pulls up the sleeve on one arm and then the other, her own word now exposed for the others to see. The scar stands out, not angrily, but proudly.

Harry grins widely at her and gives her a thumbs up, Mrs. Weasley bustles over and hugs her tightly while the rest of the room smiles over at her.

"Mum," Ron interrupts, "I'm starving. Is there any food?"

"You and your bloody stomach!"

"Language, Ginny. And yes, Ron, that does remind me, the chicken will be nearly ready. Audrey, can you give me a hand?"

Mrs. Weasley and Audrey hurry off to the kitchen, Mr. Weasley, Charlie and Percy begin discussing the new undersecretary to the Minister, George and Angelina are rolling on the floor laughing about something, Bill and Fleur murmur to each other quietly. None of them have rolled their sleeves down or attempted to scrub the ink off.

Harry squeezes her shoulder as he walks by, muttering vaguely about needing the bathroom and Ginny soon follows after him shiftily, not before hugging Hermione once again.

Hermione grabs Ron's hand and leads him out to the garden.

The moment they're outside, Ron says, "I know I shouldn't have told them but I thought –"

She holds a hand up to his face to stop him. "That was the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me."

He sniffs. "You deserve it. You have to know – everyone wants to help you, they love you and want you to know it. And… so do I. You are the most brilliant person I'll ever know and I just want you to realise that. Because every time I hear that you think things like that… it breaks my heart. I know it's more than a word but _you _are so much more than a word."

"Well, I know that now."

"Good," he smiles. "Er, what are you doing?"

He looks at her as she begins to rub at his arm with a damp cloth she had conjured. After a few moments of silence, she removes the cloth, leaving only a few smudge marks and a single word – '_best'._

"Not second," she states, wrapping her arms around him, "_best_."

"You're bloody brilliant you know?" he says, leaning to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

She laughs, "That's what I've been told."

He laughs too and leans down to kiss her. She kisses him back – it's passionate, perfect and amazing – everything Hermione is.

They break apart, "C'mon," she says, "I know you can't resist your mother's cooking for much longer."

He grins as they walk, hand in hand, back to the house, their arms pressed together, the words _best _and _mudblood_ merged into one.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I hope that wasn't too cheesy! I took certain creative license with Audrey's word - I imagine her and Percy bonding over their family issues. And Charlie's, I don't think he minds that he's alone but I'm sure others try make him feel bad about it. Mr. Weasley's refers to his obsession with Muggles. Oh, and I know Bill isn't a full werewolf, it just seemed appropriate for him to worry about it. I had issues with the ending but I hope you guys liked it. Let me know what you think! : )<strong>_


End file.
